Walking Backwards
by Lanie McCoy
Summary: ONE SHOT. DEATHFIC [sort of]. Companion piece to the "Red Moon" trilogy. Only the dead can truly comprehend death, but the living left behind in their shadows understand things that no other can. Unless we're all just walking backwards.
1. Walking Backwards

**Quick little piece about the true meanings of death. A sort of companion piece to the _Red Moon_ trilogy, because reincarnation doesn't really work that way, and I thought I'd write a new view on things.**

**Um, be kind? This gets a little confusing. Just keep in mind, it doesn't mention names and can be seen as any of the four main characters speaking.**

**Disclaimer: Do you like foxes? So do I.**

_Walking Backwards_

Ten days ago, I saw a most interesting sight. I watched as four lives ended, together, all at once.

I don't think I should ever see such a thing again.

It was most peculiar; the last thing I remember—the last thing relevant to anything, at least—is that we were all together, the four of us, sitting on a hilltop together, waiting for our next mission instructions. Then, entirely out of nowhere, a group of four youkai leapt out of the trees and attacked us.

They were quite strong, and we were quite unprepared. At the very least, we lost the battle, though we put up a good fight, all things considered. None of the others were killed.

So why am I telling you this? None of the others were killed, so why would this story matter? Because, while none of the others died that day in the most literal sense of the word, I did, but that is not why four fighters lost their lives all at once. And I would like for someone to know why.

Because it's sure as hell that no one else will listen to reason.

The separation of soul from physical body is a painless thing, relatively. Besides, the soul is most likely distracted, at the time, by the act of their body's death. Much of the time, the soul doesn't even realize that its body has died at the time. I knew. That didn't necessarily mean I would accept or admit to it, but I did know.

I blame my death on my brash overconfidence in the face of surprise at the attack. One would be hard pressed to find a youkai I had never heard of being stronger than I, and I did not assess the situation well. Assumption is a dangerous thing, and one slip can end in unfixable errors.

For that _is_ what death is, right? It's an unfixable error.

The others wouldn't accept it at first. Like the loyal friends they are to each other, and to me, their first thoughts were of how to speak to Koenma to arrange for my reincarnation. They would need my approval first, something they didn't appear to remember—or they assumed I would agree, which I would not—but no one thought to even try to ask me. It would have been a fatal error if all things had gone according to their plans up to that point.

They remembered all their experiences with revival, and they assumed it would happen for me, too. Now. Assumed I would want it.

But I'm tired.

I don't want to go through that living hell again.

I don't want to go back to that life.

I don't want to go back to life at all, but no one seems to understand that.

No one even tries.

As I watch them, and I do, constantly, I see them plan fervently and not take into account the most potent variable, as to whether I want to return. But because I am watching them always, and I can travel through solid masses, I see what they think, but will not say.

And they all have their doubts.

They all think the same things, really. In different ways, perhaps, seeing it through different windows, but it's all one idea.

Death is irreversible, no matter how we may wish to think otherwise. A new entity may be born from the ashes of defeat, but that soul cannot carry with it the one it leaves behind, and those very ashes that used to be one life are no longer able to.

They all know it, but they all pretend, because they think that if they believe hard enough, everything will work out for the best.

What they don't seem to realize, though, is that there are two bests in this situation: what they desire, which is my full return to life with all my memories and persona intact. And what I desire, which is the final frontier. To be left to my own demise. To be lost and not forgotten.

To be preserved in their memories as their friend, their comrade, their ally. The person they envisioned me to be, whatever that may have been.

A new entity I may return as, for my old body was far too torn apart to ever be mended and reused, would never be the same person I was before. New life may begin, but it cannot bring back an old one, and what they may think this new soul to be would destroy what they thought I was.

I don't want that.

It may be selfish of me—I believe it is, in fact—but I want them to remember who I was in their eyes. Not some new person with my name and an entirely different life. If you could even call it that. Half life may be more like it, living in the shadow of a person he never even knew existed.

I like to pretend that that thought alone makes it unselfish, but really, I don't think so. More like, I don't want him stealing and ruining the life I worked so hard to make my own. And suddenly it's selfish again. It always will be, and there's nothing I can do or say to change that.

They sense my presence, once in awhile. Or, at least, I think they do. Maybe they only look wistfully into the sky and wish, but I make myself believe they sense that I still watch over them.

Who knows, really. Maybe they do.

I can't hover forever in the echoes of lives that should be led as real lives. Theirs, I mean. They should still live to their utmost, the way all lives were meant to be. They have to let go of me, and in turn, I have to let go of them. I have to do it first, I know. They can't forget someone who can't forget them.

Or maybe they can't forget me at all, and I'm using the wrong words. They don't need to forget. They can't, and neither can I. We just need to forgive. I need to forgive them for fighting their own battles alongside me as I fought mine, and they need to forgive me for losing. Both stupid things. I shouldn't blame them for not protecting me. There was no reason, none at all, to believe they would. They shouldn't have, and I know I would have been furious at them if they had. They can't resent me for losing, because they know I tried. They know I was surprised, as little as I should have been, and they know they were, too. I just didn't deal with it as well as they did.

I'm not weak, or anything. I was just under pressure. Life was hard for me, and it only got more so as I got older and older and yet, kept on going as a Reikai Tantei. Pressure I should have been used to, maybe, after dealing with it for so long, but every once in awhile, it gets to you, and that was just one of those times. Inconvenient, yes, but nothing could be done about it.

Nothing could be done, because death is permanent. You cannot reverse death, and a new life does not bring back an old one.

Accepting that would be the first step to releasing the ties that bind, and I would be free.

As I said at first, all I remember of any consequence, before my death, is that we were all sitting together on that hill in the forest. That damn hill, where my life and the lives of my friends ended. Where life was lost when it should have been restored.

I'll always feel resentment, I think. I'll forgive, and not forget, and I will return, sometimes. I won't lock myself in the shadows of my friends and I will move on.

At least, I'll try. I don't know; I may just end up walking backwards instead of moving forwards.

It won't help that I'll be seeing them all move on; fix their lives, grow into adults—the ones who aren't already, depending on your definition of adults—live the ways they were meant to, and be their own persons. I'll wish I was there with them, from time to time, but that's only to be expected. I'll watch them laugh, and I'll watch them cry, and I'll wish I could join in their fun, and dry their tears, and I'll have to be content with simply watching.

Or, that's what I hope, anyway.

It may not be allowed.

But I'll take whatever death throws my way.


	2. Reflection: Author Note

I promise, _Walking Backwards_ really is a one-shot. This is just a random author note inspired by a review I got from Hieisbestbuddy888.

(By the way, I took out the line mentioning Yuusuke specifically.)

About the note saying that this story specifically doesn't mention names, so it could theoretically be any of the four main characters speaking (which is why that line about "depending on your definition of old" is in there, to save myself). I admit, I originally had Hiei in mind as I wrote, but then I reread the finished document and thought it sounded more like Kurama, and then I reread it _again _and thought it sounded more like some fifth character I had accidentally invented, and then I realized what my problem was.

It's more a combination of all four characters than it is one of them specifically. Because the fic isn't about Hiei's death, or Kurama's death, or Yuusuke's death, or Kuwabara's death. It's about death itself.

At first, it sounds like Kurama is speaking, because of the language. Then Hiei comes around and says he went into the battle too rashly, expecting that he would be stronger because…he's Hiei, and Hiei is simply stronger than you. Then Kurama again, with all the philosophy about the meaning of death and the psychology of those left in the wake. Then Yuusuke, defending himself as "not weak, or anything" and talking about living life under pressure. Then Kuwabara talking about "that damn hill, where my life and the lives of my friends ended" and how there will be resentment, and he will watch them all move on with their lives, but he will move on, too, eventually. In a way.

Then comes the conclusion, about wishing he could join their laughter and dry their tears, and live as he was meant to live. That could be any of them, I think. I could see any of them saying "I'll take whatever death throws my way."

The best way I can think of to explain this bizarre quadruple pseudo-death is that this takes place a few years after the end of the story, and they've all just grown. Together, of course. They've grown together, fought together, saved each other's asses, and, admit it or not, they're all friends. Yes, even Hiei and Kuwabara respect each other, if they don't always like each other.

They've all grown up together, really, and they've all rubbed off on each other, affecting the ways the others are growing. Yuusuke may have picked up on Kurama's and Hiei's love for the chase and Kuwabara may have picked up on Kurama's intellect and strategy, and Hiei may have gotten some of Kuwabara's devotion to and respect and love for his friends, and they've all gotten some love of freedom and ability to take things as they come from Yuusuke.

Maybe the language is a little advanced for Kuwabara, who, incidentally, is a much more noble character in the Japanese version than the English one (who are in the habit of throwing in random lines to make him sound even less intelligent, like that clip from Yuusuke's fight with Sensui when he told Yuusuke what to do, "because he won't expect that, unless that's what he thinks you're going to do, 'cause then you shouldn't…" which bothered me to no end). Maybe Kurama wouldn't swear. Maybe Yuusuke wouldn't be so philosophical. Maybe Hiei wouldn't be so friendly.

Or maybe they're all rubbed off on each other and this story could really be any of them.

The point is, this isn't a story about one thing, necessarily. It's about the theme and idea of death, and psychologically, how we go about thinking about it. And how the ones who are actually dead may think things totally unrelated to what we think or want them to be thinking. I wrote this because I know I've revived more than one character to have a story end as "happily ever after," and I know I've had people close to me die and that revival doesn't really work that way. So maybe this fic will let you rethink the liberality with which you revive your characters.

Just a little.


End file.
